


(begrudging) occupational hazards

by vindice



Series: I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet [7]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Basically, Emissary Bakura Ryou, Gen, Grumpy Ryou, M/M, Spark Bakura Ryou, Teen Wolf AU, Tendershipping as Sterek, he hasn't slept in three days, let him sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: Ryouhatesthe Nemeton.





	(begrudging) occupational hazards

As an emissary and the alpha’s mate, there are things Ryou knows he’s expected to do. Advice his pack, protect his territory, renovate old treaties. Considering how much he loves his pack and this town, this is all fine with him.

As an unraveled spark, there are things he _ loves _ to do. Break curses, create runes, study spells, uncover conspiracies and decipher prophecies being some of them.

What he’s bitter about, hand hovering over his shoulder as magic knits closed the wound caused by the hellhound’s claws, is the Nemeton.

Ryou _ hates _ the Nemeton. Its darkness, how it makes Beacon Hills a literal beacon for the supernatural forces said tree attracts like moths to a flame at every turn, each time.

The feeling of impending doom each event brings, before they get fed up and take it down.

He’s so tired.

He’s even more tired of Malik showing up on his doorstep at three in the goddamn morning to drag him on dubious patrols when Bakura, conveniently, isn’t around to growl at the Egyptian and impose all his alpha will upon him.

It’s too early for any of this.

His thoughts sober up when Malik flies past, thrown into the wall behind him. A whimper leaves the kitsune’s mouth and Ryou’s gut twists with uneven amounts of irritation and concern. If someone deserves to go through life throwing Malik into walls it sure is Ryou for all the trouble the fox has given him over the years, not some unresponsive hellhound that won’t even remember what he did when he wakes up.

One of his bonds stretches for a moment deep within his core before falling back into place. Malik passed out.

Ryou feels his skin thrum. Invisible tendrils recoil with a territorial hiss, and displeasure floods his system as his spark lights up.

His shoulder is halfway healed, skin still raw and torn in places, but he’s worked with less for more, so he lets his hand fall to the side and snarls at Jounouchi, now standing in front of him.

Really, Ryou has nothing against the blond — they are actually the closest link both packs in Beacon Hills have. The problem is the alter ego that comes out to play when corpses start to appear. It’s super helpful, he won’t deny it, but that annoying hellhound sometimes makes Ryou’s life harder than it has to be.

And that’s saying something when he usually takes care of a bunch of supernatural toddlers disguised as grownups.

“Sorry, Katsuya,” he mutters, only partially honest before freezing him.

It won’t last. It’s just a distraction so he can gather Malik and leave. He’s already seen how many corpses there are around, and found what he has been looking for.

He’s not sure how exactly he feels about a kanima running free and causing trouble in his territory. He does know he doesn’t like it in the slightest, and that is why he’s hoping for it to be a stranger, otherwise this will only put further strain between the packs. Atem won’t take lightly to accusations involving any of his, regardless of anyone’s best intentions.

The others are going to flip; he can already see it. A headache is already forming just from thinking about dealing with Yuugi’s pack.

At least Kek will have a field day tracking and getting information.

He misses Bakura. He wishes they were both in their home, in their bed, in each other’s arms. Not a thousand miles apart because of an Alpha meeting, and now this.

The only saving grace is that yesterday marked a week of his absence. Any time between later that day or tomorrow, and he will have his well deserved armful of Kuras.

“Oops,” Ryou says when the ice cracks a minuscule fraction, which means the hellhound is already burning through his paralysis spell. He passes Malik’s arm around his shoulders while his own holds him by the waist, carrying him in the direction of the car, where Amane’s waiting. “Time to go.”


End file.
